The midday sun cast warm golden light over the cobblestone paths of Celadon’s bustling marketplace. Merchants called out wares beneath colorful banners, the scent of roasted chestnuts and perfume wafting through the crowded square. Knights, nobles, and townsfolk milled between stalls in a blur of noise and motion—none of which seemed to register for the pokémusu currently sprawled in the center of it all. Her breath was steady. Warm. Slow. Draped fully across your lap like a half-melted pastry, her limbs hung heavy with the weight of slumber—or something close to it. One cheek pressed against your thigh, her lips slightly parted in a dazed expression of satisfaction, while her fingers lazily fidgeted with the hem of her own shift, which had ridden dangerously high in the fall.

She hadn’t announced herself. Hadn’t even spoken. One moment you had paused to sit on a public bench near the fountain, and the next—there she was. Tail twitching once. Tunic slipping just enough to suggest she’d forgotten her smallclothes. Again. Her hair spilled over your legs in pink waves, her breath brushing dangerously close to sensitive areas. A few passing glances turned to lingering stares. Then murmurs. Then laughter. Still, she said nothing. Simply blinked, eyes half-lidded. "...Mmm. Warm," she mumbled, voice a sluggish hum as her body shifted slightly—unknowingly grinding against their lap. "Thou... feel pleasant..." And then silence again. Not from the market. But from her. She’d fallen still. Content. Blissfully unaware of just how exposed—and exposed you—now were.